that Bob repented his flippancy on the
spot. He had heard occasional remarks of his elders about Jethro.

"I didn't mean quite that," he said, growing red in his turn. "Uncle
Jethro--Mr. Bass--is a great man of course. That's what I meant."

"And he's a very good man," said Cynthia, who understood now that he had
spoken a little lightly of Jethro, and resented it.

"I'm sure of it," said Bob, eagerly. Then Cynthia began to walk on,
slowly, and he followed her on the other side of the fence. "Hold on," he
cried, "I haven't said half the things I want to say--yet."

"What do you want to say?" asked Cynthia, still walking. "I have to go."

"Oh, no, you don't! Wait just a minute--won't you?"

Cynthia halted, with apparent unwillingness, and put out her toe between
the pickets. Then she saw that there was a little patch on that toe, and
drew it in again.

"What do you want to say?" she repeated. "I don't believe you have
anything to say at all." And suddenly she flashed a look at him that made
his heart thump.

"I do--I swear I do!" he protested. "I'm coming down to the Pelican
to-morrow morning to get you to go for a walk."

Cynthia could not but think that the remoteness of the time he set was
scarce in keeping with his ardent tone.

"I have something else to do to-morrow morning," she answered.

"Then I'll come to-morrow afternoon," said Bob, instantly.

"Who lives here?" she asked irrelevantly.

"Mr. Duncan. I'm visiting the Duncans."

At this moment a carryall joined the carriage at the gate. Cynthia
glanced at the porch again. The group there had gown larger, and they
were still staring. She began to feel uncomfortable again, and moved on
slowly.

"Mayn't I come?" asked Bob, going after her; and scraping the butt of the
rod along the palings.

"Aren't there enough girls here to satisfy you?" asked Cynthia.

"They're enough--yes," he said, "but none of 'em could hold a candle to
you."

Cynthia laughed outright.

"I believe you tell them all something like that," she said.

"I don't do any such thing," he retorted, and then he laughed himself,
and Cynthia laughed again.

"I like you because you don't swallow everything whole," said Bob,
"and--well, for a good many other reams." And he looked into her face
with such frank admiration that Cynthia blushed and turned away.

"I don't believe a word you say," she answered, and started to walk off,
this time in earnest.

"Hold on," cried Bob. They w